


Good Vibrations

by CydSA



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-15
Updated: 2010-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CydSA/pseuds/CydSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>washing machine sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://alyssand.livejournal.com/profile)[**alyssand**](http://alyssand.livejournal.com/) cos she whined when no one picked it up on the kink thread and it's random porn and she then proceed to give me a whole story. Luh ya bb

Kris scowled and glared at the guy stuffing his clothes into the far machine. Asshole had come almost every night this week, glittering and sparkling and generally making everyone around him look drab.

Kris hated glitter.

Asshole had come in on Monday night with a bag of laundry and a tiny boy plastered up against him. They'd giggled and kissed and stumbled around the laundromat, bumping into some of the other customers.

Kris had finally stepped in. "Look, if you can't keep it in your pants, then I suggest you take it somewhere else," he'd said and Asshole had lifted his head from his companion's and stared at him.

Kris had tried to ignore the sky blue eyes and sarcastic mouth. Asshole had curled said mouth in a facsimile of a smile and asked, "Too much gay for you, sweetheart?"

Kris had allowed the contempt he was feeling to show in his face when he'd replied, "Not at all, I'm just the night manager here and I have to keep the place clean." He'd let his eyes roam up and down the two of them, saying without words what he thought.

Asshole had growled and stepped back and finished his load of washing and left without another word or gesture or public display of affection. His little friend had moped off behind him.

Tuesday had brought him in again, later this time with his eyeliner smeared across his eyelids and dark shadows like bruises under his eyes.

He'd come alone.

Kris had looked up from his copy of 'Rolling Stone' and nearly fallen off his stool when Asshole had nodded silently to him on the way to one of the machines.

Mrs. Grady, the sweet old lady who came in once a week with her meagre load, had been struggling with the door of her machine and before Kris could do anything, Asshole was there, pulling the door open and helping her move her washing to the nearest drier.

He had heard the low murmur of conversation and told himself that he wasn't disappointed that Asshole had been the one to play hero that night.

Mrs. Grady had giggled like a lovesick girl and patted at the curlers in her hair as Asshole had leaned down and kissed her cheek when she was done. She'd turned and waved at the door and he'd been watching, had waved back, and Kris had thought uncharitably that he put on a good show.

His top lip had curled in a sneer and then he'd seen that Asshole was looking at him, strangely intent but when he'd turned to look back at him, that wide blue stare was gone.

Kris had told himself that he didn't feel something like an ache in the chest region.

Wednesday had been pouring with rain, uncharacteristic for LA, but Kris had learned to roll with the punches when it came to the shady lady. He'd been at the counter, finishing off the last few lines of his assignment when the door had banged open and Asshole had entered, pausing dramatically in the doorway as if expecting all eyes to be on him.

The fact that they were, including his own, had made Kris want to stab out his eyes.

"Fucking Hell-Ay!" Asshole had exclaimed cheerfully, shaking himself like a dog. Drops of rain flew off him like diamonds and Kris rolled had his eyes mentally at himself.

"Do you have any change?" Kris had been startled to realise that Asshole was standing in front of him, holding out a $5 note. He'd mutely opened the petty cash drawer and taken out five dollar coins and accepted the note in exchange.

"Do you say anything, other than play the moral policeman?" Asshole had asked cheekily, eyes sparkling and Kris had noticed that some stubborn drops had clung to his eyelashes like jewels.

"Yeah," he'd responded smoothly and fallen silent. Asshole had sighed, rolled his eyes and gone to a machine, stuffing it haphazardly with linens and other clothes.

Kris hadn't been able to take it. "You shouldn't mix your whites and your colours," he'd called.

Asshole had spun around, surprised and then taken a speedy inventory of the rest of the laundromat. "Excuse me?" he'd said and Kris had hauled himself off his stool with a put upon sigh.

"You need to wash your white stuff separately," he'd said, opening the machine lid and pulling out the black jeans and t-shirts that had been stuffed in with the white sheets.

"Why not?" Asshole had pouted and Kris had absolutely not noticed the freckles that clung to his lips.

"Because you just don't," he'd insisted and Asshole had shrugged and used two machines that night.

When he'd finished, he'd walked out with a wave.

He hadn't come in on Thursday or Friday and Kris told himself that he didn't care. But there was just something so alive about Asshole. Something vibrant and real and it made Kris want to reach out and touch.

Saturday night and it was Kris' last shift for the week. He would be going back to the day shift from Monday now that the school year was over and getting some real sleep at night when everyone else human did, was extremely appealing.

But tonight was Saturday night and it brought _him_ in again and Kris was trying not to glare daggers at him or the cute skinny man with him.

They were decked out in party clothes, shining and sparkling and Kris had never felt more like a sparrow in the presence of peacocks.

"Hey, laundry guy," he heard and looked up into those eyes again, "can I get some soap?" Asshole asked.

"Kris," he mumbled and then flushed when an ink dark eyebrow went up, "my name is Kris, not laundry guy." He wanted a hole to open up and swallow him. Sometimes he needed to shut up.

"Adam," Asshole said and offered a hand. Kris took it, shook, and mentally noted the black-tipped fingers and chunky rings. "Now, do you have some soap?" he asked.

Kris flushed again and reached down and mutely gave him a small box of detergent. He watched Ass…Adam walk away and then met the hazel eyes of his companion. The sympathetic gaze did not made things any easier.

"I'm Brad," he said in a soft voice and Kris nodded.

"Hey," he said and looked back down at his notebook, trying to ignore them. They were the only ones in the shop tonight, and Kris hated that his eyes seemed magnetized where Adam was concerned.

"Whatcha doing?" Brad asked and heaved himself up onto the counter next to Kris.

"Nothing," Kris mumbled. His Mama would smack him upside his head if she heard him being so rude.

"I hear the South in your voice," Brad continued, ignoring the surly tone. "I'm from Texas."

Kris slid his gaze over a shiny chest and an even shinier pair of legs. "Arkansas," he admitted grudgingly.

"Holla!" Brad said, pumping the air with his hands. Kris stared at him disbelievingly. "What?" he asked, "I'm working on my street speak."

Kris snorted a laugh and Brad's thin lips curved in a sly smile. Kris shook his head and asked, "What are you doing here on a Saturday night? You look ready to play." He resolutely told himself that he was just being polite to make up for his earlier rudeness.

He was absolutely not interested in what they were doing. Together.

Brad pulled his legs up so that he was sitting cross-legged on the counter and propped his chin on his hands. "I have no idea. Adam insisted on doing his laundry before we went out. Then he made me walk here. In these shoes!" Brad indicated the stiletto heeled boots in question dramatically. "Walking is not meant to be done in them," he assured Kris.

Kris couldn't resist. "What's meant to be done in them then?" he asked and Brad beamed at him approvingly like a teacher at the smartest kid in the class.

"I'm glad you asked," he smiled and tossed another glare Adam's way. "These are my 'fuck me' boots," he confided to Kris, "they are to be worn only when I am need of a good rogering."

Kris grinned back at him, trying to quell the queasy feeling in his stomach when he thought about Adam and this pretty, witty man. "So," he drawled, "Adam is your…" he had to ask and Brad looked at him sharply, hazel eyes seeing things far too clearly.

"Adam is my friend," he said quietly and Kris did not feel his body relax in relief. At all.

"Special friend?" Kris obviously had been taken over by some sort of demon or something because his mouth kept asking questions his brain really didn't want the answers to.

Brad's expression was thoughtful and he sent suspicious glances between Kris and Adam. "Oh, I see," he muttered and hopped off the counter without saying anything to Kris. He went over to Adam, slapped his arm and called him an idiot.

Then he left.

Kris and Adam both watched him leave. He flipped the 'Open' sign to 'Closed' and pulled the door shut behind him. A second later he stuck his head back in. "Talk to each other, you dickheads," he ordered. And left again, slamming the door this time.

Kris looked over at a bemused Adam. "You have weird friends," Kris told him and Adam turned his gaze to him.

"What did you say to him?" he asked, stalking towards Kris. Kris swallowed, the low hum of the machine like thunder in the sudden quiet.

"Nothing," he said defensively. "We just talked about his shoes."

Adam's face softened and his mouth stretched in a slow smile. "Brad loves those boots," he admitted and came up to lean on the counter. "He wants to get laid tonight," he told Kris.

"I know," Kris said, "he said he wanted to get a rogering." Kris' eyes were wide and fixed on Adam. "Who the hell talks like that?"

Adam's grin widened. "Brad is one of a kind," and then he tipped his head to one side and looked at Kris. "What time do you stay open until?" he asked suddenly.

Kris looked at the large clock on the wall. "I have to close up in about ten minutes," he said softly.

Adam's hand moved restlessly on the counter. "And then what does Kris do on a Saturday night in LA?" he asked, not looking at him.

Kris felt his brain freeze. He was missing something here. "I," he paused, "I go home?" he said, question mark at the end of the statement.

Adam nodded and asked, still not meeting his gaze, "And is there anyone you go home to?"

Holy shit, Kris thought, he was being hit on. In the laundromat. By a glittery, shining guy.

And he wanted.

"No," he said, soft and sure and Adam's eyes met his, blue eyes suddenly hot and fierce.

"Do you …" Adam trailed off and Kris felt the dryness in his mouth.

"Yeah," he breathed and stepped out from behind the counter, walking slowly up to Adam who turned around so that he was leaning back on the counter.

"Thank God," Adam laughed, "I've run out of things to wash." And he hauled Kris into his arms and kissed him.

Kris felt like he'd been struck by lightning as he hung there in Adam's arms. He'd been kissed before. By guys too. But this was something different. He put his hands up and shoved at Adam's shoulders.

"What?" Adam asked, dazedly and Kris was distracted by the wet shine on his lips. That was him there, all over Adam's lip freckles and he stepped back.

"Stop," he told Adam firmly. Well, tried to tell him firmly. His voice came out breathy and high and he sounded like a teenage girl.

"Why?" Adam asked, "You weren't into it?" His mouth turned down at the corners.

"No!" Kris said hastily, "I was, I mean, I am! It's just, this is where I work and the light is on and anyone could just walk in and..." he flailed his hands around and Adam's face turned predatory again.

"Okay," he said, "I'll wait." And he turned away and went to the washing machine he'd shoved his laundry into and Kris stared at his ass helplessly.

Silently he went to the door, locked it and pulled down the blind. He walked over to the light switch and flicked it, plunging them into darkness. The only light in the room was a dull gleam from the nearest street lamp.

"Kris?" Adam's voice came out of the dark, low and questioning.

Kris walked towards the sound and put his hand out in front of him. He heard a muffled groan when his fingers collided with warm fabric.

"Kris," Adam moaned and he pulled him close again, long arms wrapping around him and Kris found himself engulfed by heat and scent. He put his face in the curve of Adam's neck, breathing him in.

"What do you want?" Adam asked quietly and Kris let his hands roam down the length of Adam's back until he reached his pants. He moved his hands under the material of Adam's shirt and discovered warm skin.

"Everything," Kris told him, biting softly at the skin of Adam's collar bone.

Adam spun them around and lifted Kris onto the washing machine, moving rapidly in between the vee formed by his legs. Kris let his legs fall open and then he lifted them, wrapped them around Adam's waist. He felt the motion of the machine under his ass, gentle rocking, low hum and he shivered.

"Wanted you the moment I saw you," Adam murmured into his mouth, softly nibbling at his lips. Kris leaned back and let Adam tug at his t-shirt until he'd pulled it up and over his head.

"You hid it really well," Kris told him and felt the smile against his mouth.

"Got to keep up my badass reputation," Adam said and Kris snorted.

"Right, you're a real badass with all your glitter and polish and ass-hugging pants," he said derisively.

"Ass-hugging pants?" Adam asked and obligingly let Kris unbutton his shirt and shove it off his shoulders.

"You know you have an amazing ass," Kris muttered, sounding accusing.

Adam giggled. "It's my second best feature," he told Kris.

Kris knew he shouldn't ask, but did anyway, "What's your best then?"

Adam waited a beat and then said innocently, "My eyes of course."

Kris laughed and then hissed when Adam suddenly pressed their bodies together. The combination of their damp, warm skin and the constant rock of the machine shook something loose in Kris.

"I don't do this," he confessed and felt Adam's lips at his ear, nibbling and licking.

"Don't do what?" Adam asked, his mouth moving down the column of his neck, sucking and nipping.

"Random hook-ups with strangers," Kris clarified, letting his head fall back, giving Adam the access he wanted.

"Neither do I," Adam told him, voice serious.

"That guy on Monday…" Kris said softly.

"A booty call. Taylor and I are each other's stress relief." Adam sounded vaguely amused. "Were you jealous?" he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"No," Kris mumbled and then shivered when Adam's hands started stroking up and down his sides. "I mean, maybe," and he honest-to-God whimpered when Adam moved one hand to his stomach and rested his large palm on the insistent hard-on tenting his jeans.

"Jealous," Adam crowed and Kris canted his hips up so that the pressure of Adam's hand would increase.

"Stop fucking around," Kris told him and he reached around and put his hands on both cheeks of Adam's ass, pulled him close and relished the little sound that escaped Adam.

"Ever done it on a washing machine, laundry boy?" Adam asked, fingers busy at his zipper, being careful as he lowered it.

"No," Kris squeaked as that big hand reached in and scooped him out of his boxers.

"Well, let's chalk this one up to a mutual first time then, shall we?" Adam purred as he started to move his hand around Kris' cock.

"Okay," Kris bit out and shuddered as Adam's thumb pressed against the tip of his cock, rubbing in slow, maddening circles. "Please," he begged, not knowing exactly what he was asking for, praying that Adam would know.

"Hold on, baby," Adam instructed and he was suddenly kneeling between Kris' thighs, pulling him forward so that he was perched precariously on the edge of the machine.

"What..?" he asked and then went limp as Adam's mouth engulfed him. The washing machine started its rinse cycle just as Adam started moving his mouth up and down the length of Kris' cock. Kris felt himself shaking apart as the combination of the movement beneath him and the motion around him made him come so quickly he didn't have one moment to warn Adam.

"Fuck!" he shouted as Adam calmly swallowed everything and then pulled away. He stood up and moved back into Kris' body.

"That was a tasty starter," Adam said, his voice a little rough, "but now I really want the main course."

Kris shook his head. "I don't think…"

Adam's finger found his lips. "Shut. Up." He pulled him off his perch on the machine and turned him so that the top half of his body was draped over the top of the washing machine. "Stay there," he ordered and Kris felt the cool night air hit his ass as Adam tugged his pants down.

"Adam, I …" he bolted upright when he felt the cool drizzle of lube hit his ass cheeks. "What the fuck?" he turned his head and tried to glare at Adam in the dark, "You just happened to have lube with you?" he asked suspiciously.

Adam chuckled and Kris heard the crinkle of plastic and the snap of a condom. "I'm a boy scout, always prepared." Then he stroked his hand down the length of Kris' back, gently pressing him forward and down again. "Besides, I've been carrying them with me since I saw you on Monday. Hopeful romantic, that's me."

His cheerful grin was evident in his voice and Kris was about to protest again when he felt Adam's fingers circling his hole. "Are you ready?" Adam asked.

Kris took a deep breath and nodded. Then he realised that Adam couldn't see him. "Yeah," he breathed and then couldn't contain the slight flinch as one long finger pressed inside.

"So tight, so sweet, so hot," Adam crooned and pressed deeper. Kris stifled a moan. He had a feeling that this might hurt. Then Adam leaned forward, chest against Kris' back and Kris felt the machine pick up speed again, rocking and shaking and humming and Adam just kept his finger inside him and let the washing machine move them.

"You feel so good," Adam praised him and before Kris could say anything, sent another finger deep inside. Kris squirmed against the intrusion, his body fighting it. "Hold on to me, baby," Adam told him, taking one of his hands and wrapping his fingers around Kris', pressed it flat against the top of the washing machine and felt the movement echoed in the movement behind him.

"Adam," he gasped as Adam bent his fingers at the knuckle and curled them in and touched his prostate and sent him screaming. His body bucked up against Adam but he was stuck between the washing machine and the press of Adam's body.

"Hold on," Adam told him and added a third finger, scissoring and stretching Kris so that he felt like he was being split apart. But he never wanted it to stop.

"I want you in me," he gasped, clenching his fingers around Adam's, "now."

Adam grunted and then his fingers were gone and Kris felt the hot, hard head of Adam's cock at his entrance and then he slipped in, past the tight circle of muscle and Kris made a sort of whining, whimpery, shivery sound that seemed to break Adam. He surged forward, hips snapping and he was balls deep inside in a heartbeat.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Adam chanted against Kris' neck as Kris tried to catch his breath. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Don't move, please," Kris begged, the breath knocked right out of him. Adam froze and stayed where he was. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the thump-hum of the washing machine.

The final spin cycle kicked in just then and Kris had only a moment to realise what was happening as the movement sent his entire body shuddering and shaking. Adam groaned as their bodies shook together. He didn't have to move at all and Kris clenched his jaw as he felt Adam getting impossibly bigger and harder inside him as the machine sped up.

"Have to move now," Adam whispered, almost apologetically and then he pulled back, almost completely out and then pushed back in again. The spin cycle started slowing down and Adam sped up and Kris felt the top of his head coming off as he came and came and came.

He felt the pulsing of Adam's cock deep inside him and he nearly knocked himself out as he dropped his head to the cool metal surface of the washing machine.

Adam's forehead rested between his shoulder blades and they stayed there, gasping for air as the washing machine powered down. Adam pulled carefully out just as the light came on indicating that the job was done.

"Oh my God," Kris moaned quietly, trying to pull himself back together. He felt Adam's hands gentle on his skin as he tugged his boxers up and pulled his jeans up. Adam turned him around and Kris dropped his hot face into Adam's neck, allowing Adam to fasten his denims and wrap him in strong arms.

"That was…" Adam trailed off.

"Yeah," Kris agreed and huffed a small laugh against Adam's neck. 'Yeah."

He pulled away from Adam and shuffled over to the light switch. He only flipped the one light on that usually remained on at night, lighting up the back of the laundromat. Adam picked up his shirt and shrugged it on, carelessly doing a couple of buttons up. He held Kris' t-shirt out to him and Kris stared at him.

"Need some help?" Adam asked and Kris nodded. Adam walked over to him and Kris mutely lifted his arms and let Adam tug the shirt down.

"You should put your clothes in the dryer," Kris said huskily and they went back to the washing machine, unpacked it and loaded the laundry in one of the big driers. They stared at it in speculation and then exchanged glances. They both cracked up.

"Not gonna happen," Kris told Adam.

"Nope," Adam agreed. "I'd have to be way taller to get that right." They laughed softly for a while and then sat down in front of the drier, watching the clothes tumble around in the soft light.

"So what now?" Kris asked and Adam slung his arm over Kris' shoulder and tucked him close.

"Now we go out on a date and hold hands and get to know each other," Adam said.

Kris rested his head on Adam's shoulder. "Yeah?" he asked tiredly, stifling a yawn, "A date huh?"

"Or I could just keep on using you for sex," Adam told him cheerfully.

Kris reached out and pinched him. "Slut."

"You put out before you even knew my full name," Adam pointed out evilly.

"I think we're going to have a lot of issues," Kris told him conversationally.

"Yeah," Adam agreed, "but just think about how hot the make-up sex will be."

Kris thought about it. It would be totally hot. "Kris Allen," he said wryly, "Music student and laundromat manager."

The shoulder beneath his cheek shook a little. "Adam Lambert," Adam said, "Singer and barista."

Kris lifted his head. "Singer? For real?" he asked in amazement.

"For real," Adam confirmed.

"Huh," Kris said thoughtfully. "Nice to meet you, Adam Lambert."

He held out his hand and Adam entwined their fingers. "Nice to meet you too, Kris Allen," he grinned.

They sat there, smiling at each other as the drier kicked in and spun.

They sat there, smiling at each other as the sun rose on West Hollywood.

They sat there, smiling at each other as the future dawned bright and full of hope.


End file.
